


1958

by FtLoShakespeare



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: Voyager, F/M, Jamie through the stones, Reunion, Reunions, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13029657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FtLoShakespeare/pseuds/FtLoShakespeare
Summary: After Ardsmuir Prison is closed in 1756, Jamie asks John Grey to take him to Craigh na Dun before taking him to Helwater so he can mourn for Claire. To his surprise, the Stones open to him, bringing him to 1958.





	1. Craigh na Dun

Jamie swallowed against the lump in his throat.  _Craigh na Dun_. This cursed and blessed place that both brought him his wife and took her away. He slowly dismounted his horse.

“Here?” Lord John Grey’s voice was sceptical as he looked up at the stones from their position at the base of the hill. Jamie could feel his eyes on him. He blinked for fear of tears. “This… is where you and your wife were parted?”

“Aye” it was more of a croak than a word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Aye. We… aye.” John dismounted next to him. “I thank ye for bringing me so far out of our way.” Ardsmuir prison was closed, and John was taking Jamie to his parole in Helwater. He had asked if they could come up to  _Craigh na Dun_  first, as Jamie wasn’t sure how long he’d be stuck in Helwater. As Claire wasn’t dead  _(dear God let her be safe… her and the child)_  and he didn’t have a grave for her, he wished to come here to mourn. John, to Jamie’s surprise, acquiesced.

“Why here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It… It was the safest nearby place for her to leave from that day.”

John nodded respectfully, an air of something like confusion still in his eyes. It did seem an odd place for a parting. They both looked up at the stones. From where they stood, there was a perfect view of the centre stone.  To John, the fairy stones were no more than superstitious nonsense. He tentatively put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

“Take your time. I’ll wait here with the horses. Just… I’d rather you stay where I can see you.” His voice was soft, kind and full of empathy.

“‘Course. I thank ye, again.”

With another nod at each other, Jamie began the painful walk up the hill. As he walked, his pockets heavy with the large handful of gems and coins he had managed to keep from Selkie Island, he was reminded of the other excruciating times he had climbed up and down this hill. The first, he had thought he was saying goodbye. He had been certain that Claire would choose Frank over him. He had walked up this hill praying for the strength not to beg her to stay. He had walked back down the hill with a broken heart, numb with the pain of it. Only hours later, he had woken to utter joy and relief, Claire by his side to stay. He remembered weeping in her arms that night, and making soulful love to her beneath the stars. The second time he’d mounted this hill was ten years before, on the worst day of his miserable life. He hadn’t prayed for anything that day, save a swift death after their parting. He had walked back down this damnable hill alone that day, his heart not broken, but gone. He had been walking with the bleeding, gaping hole in his chest ever since. For a third time, he was mounting that hill, with neither prayer nor dread in his heart, but the hollow sadness of mourning.

He reached the stones and felt a weakness in his legs and a trembling in his throat. He slowly, painfully walked to the centre of the circle and looked upon the centre stone. How he despised and loved that stone… without it he never would have met Claire, never would have had those years of light, of love. Without it, he never would have lost her.

He slowly sank to his knees, unsure of the moment he had begun to cry. He closed his eyes and brought the image of Claire, still so clear to him, as though she were kneeling before him, to his mind.

“ _Mo nighean donn_ ,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken. “ _Mo ghraidh… Mo chridhe._ ”

The sound of whispers. He ignored it.

“I miss you. Always. Every day, _mo ghraidh_.”

The sound grew louder.  _‘Was that John_?’ he thought. He opened his eyes and looked down the hill behind him. No, John was still down by the horses. He shook his head and closed his eyes again, resummoning Claire to his mind’s eye.

“I pray that yer well, my Sassenach. You and the bairn. He must be nine, nearly ten, now.” He smiled sadly. “I hope he isna giving ye too much trouble.”

The whispers were back. They grew louder. They… they weren’t whispers at all, but more of a strange… buzzing… noise…

Jamie’s eyes snapped open. Was that…?

He didn’t pause to think. If there was the smallest chance…

He surged forward and slammed his hand against the centre stone.


	2. Claire's Road

 

He was being torn inside out.

The air screamed around him. Ghosts screamed around him, lost in the abyss.

_Claire. Claire. He had to get to Claire._

The screams lessened. He tightened the hold he had on Claire in his mind.

_Claire. Claire. Claire._

He finally felt grass and the solidity of the ground smash into his face, and he knew no more.

* * *

He woke some time later, the harsh winter sun stinging his eyes, next to a pile of his own sick. Groaning, he rolled away from the mess onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes, breathing deeply.

The stones. He opened his eyes to see the centre stone towering above him. Had he...? He fought down his dizziness and nausea and sat up, looking around. He couldn't see anything different from his position on the ground. He forced himself unsteadily to his feet and stumbled towards the edge of the stones to look down the hill. John wasn't there, nor were the horses. Between him and the bottom of the hill was a strange, smooth road. It looked as though it were constructed from one continuous grey stone.

_'Not only was my car gone, but the road as well.'_

Christ. Was that Claire's road? The one from her time? He felt a rush of true hope he hadn't felt in a decade. Claire has said that she rode... no, _drove_ her car right from Inverness to _Craigh na Dun_ , so if he followed the road, he was sure to find the village.

_'And then what?'_ he thought. It wasn't likely that Claire had stayed in Inverness... And he didn't know that he was in the right time. All he knew for certain was that he had moved forwards... But his heart... His heart knew the truth of it. Claire was out there somewhere, _now_ , waiting for him to find her. For the first time in a decade, a true, heartfelt smile spread across his face as he began his trek towards Inverness.

* * *

Jamie had been walking for just shy of an hour when he was scared out of his skin.

He jumped off the road and into a bush as a gleaming, metal _something_ roared past him at an unfathomable speed _. ‘What in God's name? Was that a car?’_ He looked out, seeing the bright red lights on its back as it disappeared around the corner in a flash. He had never seen anything so fast in his life. He knew from the moment he woke by the stones that this time would be different and difficult to navigate, especially before he found Claire. There were bound to be dangers here beyond his ken.  

He straightened himself and carried on down the road, now firmly sticking to the curb.

It wasn't long before another car ripped past him. More prepared this time, he got a proper look. Just as Claire had described, it truly was a horseless carriage, this one with a man and woman inside, chatting as they careened past at what must have been thrice the speed of a galloping horse.

The closer Jamie got to Inverness, the more cars he saw, in a variety of shapes and colours. As he walked, Jamie began to formulate a plan. He recalled Claire mentioning a woman who she had believed to be a druid, who knew about the stones, and possibly about the powers they held. Jamie thought he remembered that she was in the employ of a reverend. Mrs. Grant, perhaps. Or Graham.

* * *

The Old High Church in Inverness was as beautiful as he remembered, though much of it had been rebuilt since his day. A small, elderly woman sat in an official manner by the door.

“Excuse me, madam. Do ye ken where I can find the Reverend?” He didn’t know how many Reverends there were in Inverness now, let alone how many churches, so he went to the church he knew, praying for some luck.

The lady chuckled. “Madam, is it?” She had a broad, highland accent. “Such a polite lad, though looking a wee bit worse for yer travels. Have ye come from far, then?”

“Aye. Quite far.”

She nodded. “Puir lad. Go straight on through to the back. He should be there.”

He thanked her and walked towards a middle aged, kindly looking man standing at the back of the kirk. He looked up as Jamie approached and smiled in welcome, his sharp eyes hesitating briefly on Jamie’s clothes, puzzled. Jamie self-consciously shrugged his shoulders against the confines of his dirty, tattered shirt.

“Are ye quite well, lad?”

“Aye. Aye, I’m fine, thank ye. Are you the Reverend?”

“I am. Reverend Wakefield.” He extended a hand in greeting, which Jamie took. _Wakefield._ The name sounded somewhat familiar to him. Had Claire mentioned him? Or was that just the false remembrance of a hopeful mind? “Ye look like you could use a hot drink.”

Jamie’s parched throat asserted itself at the suggestion. He thanked the Reverend and followed him into a small kitchen at the back of the church. Jamie gratefully drank the tea that Wakefield handed him – it wasn’t whiskey, but he knew that Claire would have been more approving of the choice, considering how little water he’d had in the last two days. Jamie noticed Wakefield’s eyes repeatedly flicking down to his clothes, his curiosity clear. After a few minutes’ polite conversation, Jamie cut to the point.

“I’m looking for someone. A friend of someone I love.”

“Oh?”

“I… I ken that she’s in the employ of a Reverend here in Inverness. Or… at least she was thirteen years ago. Mrs. Grant. Or Graham. I dinna remember precisely. But it’s important that I find her.”

“Och, aye. Mrs. Graham. She’s my housekeeper.”

Jamie leaned back into his chair in relief. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

“May I speak wi’ her? Please.”

“Why? If ye dinna mind my asking.” His tone was kind, but his eyes were sharp, his curiosity now spiked with a hint of suspicion.

“I…” Jamie hesitated, unsure how much was safe to reveal to this man. He could have known Claire, and be helpful to him. He also could have known Frank Randall. Jamie couldn’t remember exactly what Claire had said about Mrs. Graham’s employer. “I lost touch wi’ someone a long time ago. I was hoping to find her again.”

“The one ye love.”

“Aye.”

The Reverend looked at him for a moment and seemed to see the sincerity, or perhaps the desperation in his eyes. He nodded. “I’m headed home in an hour or so. Do come for dinner, and ye can speak with her then.”


End file.
